Etiquette Fire Up the Waffle Iron
by Choice
Summary: Wherein Kurt sort of fails at being a good boyfriend, but makes up for it in the end... Sort of.


**Etiquette (Fire Up the Waffle Iron)**

* * *

Kurt couldn't help it: every time he had sex with Puck, it was like he'd run a marathon race while doing quadratic equations. It was _exhausting._ Once everything was said and done with-once both of them came at least once, all Kurt had his blurred sights set on was sleep. Mr. Sex Shark should've taken it as a _compliment_ that he'd made Kurt come so hard he could barely remember the English language anymore, much less how to keep his eyes open afterward.

But that would make things far too simple for Kurt. If Puck actually took it in stride and had no qualms with Kurt passing out pretty much right after they fucked, that would make Kurt's life way too easy._Duh._

The moment Puck would catch his breath (which was pretty easy for him, since he was a pretty seasoned athlete) he snuggled… he snuggled _hard_. If cuddling could be considered hardcore, Puck would be the hardest of the hard. (Was it just him, or was that an incredibly dirty euphemism? Oh god, he'd been hanging around Puck far too long and caught the pervert like some horribly communicable disease…) Kurt would wince if he wasn't always so close to sweet, sweet sleep. Don't get the wrong idea, Kurt had nothing against cuddling. He even sort of liked it once he got used to Puck going all Boa Constrictor on his prone, noodle-limp and defenseless body.

No, what really caused an issue was Puck's need to _talk_. It wasn't usually about the sex they'd just had. It wasn't an irritating _"Was it good for you?"_ game of Twenty Questions. But the sheer hodgepodge of crap that Puck spewed for a good _eon_ made Kurt's tired, dazed mind spin around like a remote-control racecar in the hands of one severely sugar-high child with ADHD. Puck was literally everywhere, going from talking about glee assignments to telling Kurt what he had for lunch that day-down to the very last condiment and pickle chip. And then he went onto video games and what he hoped he'd have for lunch _tomorrow_ to-well, it was anyone's guess what Puck could bring up next.

Puck took pillow talk to obscene levels of obscene. Like, Kurt would think something was wrong with the sex they were having (after all, it was no secret that Puck had had more than his fair share of sexcapading in his short life) had it not been for how much of the after-talk was about _"How fuckin' amazing was it this time? I think I saw _stars_ I came so hard. We should try that out again but with handcuffs next time. Are you cool with that? Oh, that reminds me-I was watching this infomercial the other day, and _Mr. T_ was in it!"_

No, seriously.

And if Kurt accidentally dozed off during Puck's one-sided chat? _Ooh…_ He wouldn't hear the end of it when he finally woke back up, either on his own terms or on Puck's. Kurt _still_ swore his left nipple ached from the hardcore purple nurple Puck gave him. (He'd happened to snore during Puck's umpteenth spiel about Mario Kart. (Or had it been about home fries…?))

No matter how tough and badass Puck liked to think he was, he always took it to heart when Kurt rolled around and covered his moving mouth with one hand while muttering something about _"Oh my god Puck, _please_ shut up."_

Puck would get really quiet and tense after that. It always left Kurt feeling like the worst boyfriend in existence but it took all of his strength just to breathe out a half-coherent apology while lightly scratching his nails down Puck's mohawk, petting his peeved boyfriend for as long as he could stay conscious.

Sometimes Puck would take that as a sign to start talking again. (Kurt really loathed those "sometimes".)

Kurt couldn't help how awesomely exhausting the sex was, but he _could_ make up for it when he wasn't trying to catch some z's. Sure, some might consider him immoral for exploiting Puck's infinite adoration for homemade Belgian waffles but Kurt could always manage to get over the guilt pretty fast. After all, a happy, well-fed Puck _always_ meant a horny Puck and-wow, he was totally stuck in a loop of karma turning around to bite him in the ass.

Ah well. At least the sex was amazing, right?


End file.
